


Hell Hath No Fury (Like A Woman Scorned)

by Raven100104



Series: Lucifer Post Finale Series [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, If God thinks the first rebellion is bad he's got another one coming, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, chloe has a wing kink?, devilish decker, divine devil, or maybe a scar kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 07:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15092306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven100104/pseuds/Raven100104
Summary: Heaven has wronged Lucifer in so many ways, and Chloe is not having it anymore.If the Big Guy upstairs thought the first rebellion was bad, He has another thing coming.Sequel to Falling for the Fallen





	Hell Hath No Fury (Like A Woman Scorned)

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to [Shove Self-Love Up Your Feathered Hole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144833)  
> Sequel to [Falling for the Fallen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14702742)

The night is finally settling in, and the chill of the LA breeze has somehow seeped its way into the “Five-Star Hellhole,” as Chloe calls it. Lucifer is asleep – has been for a moment now – and the Chloe doesn’t blame him. In fact, she is surprised at how long he’s even lasted (she snorts at the thought, for if Lucifer were awake, he would’ve turned the commentary into some crass remark about his sexual stamina). 

However, even as the Devil sleeps, the detective does not enjoy the same luxury. No, tonight, Chloe will watch over him like his Father never does. After the event that has transpired this morning – Marcus’ betrayal, the shooting, her partner being the _actual Devil_ – there is no way that a normal human can catch a shut eye. Sighing again at her own restlessness, the detective turns over to the nightstand, pulling her phone from the charging port. 

She fires off a quick text to Dan. 

Dan responds almost instantaneously, and Chloe is comforted by the knowledge that he couldn’t sleep either. 

After they left the scene, Chloe knew that the full force of the LAPD would soon rain down upon the abandoned building. She also knew what they’d find – corpses of many armed men, a hell-forged weapon lodged in the chest of their dead captain’s body, and most importantly, bloodied feathers of an inexplicable DNA origin. While most of it could be chalked up to self-defense, Chloe will never be able to explain away the signs of the divine; therefore, in a strict, need-to-know phone call to Dan, Chloe had instructed him to remove evidence. 

Like a dirty cop. 

She didn’t like it, but there were no other options short of revealing her partner’s true identity – and no, not today. Chloe will not risk Lucifer anymore. 

Quickly, Chloe fires back praise to Dan (and Ella, while she’s at it), as the latter has assured her of the proper removal of all things celestial. As it turns out, having a forensic scientist on your team comes quite in handy. 

Setting her phone back onto the charging port, Chloe turns back over to her partner. 

For some reason, it’s a strange thing to watch Lucifer sleep. After all these years of getting to know one another, of practically spending every waking moment together, Chloe has never seen him sleep. Even on the rare occasions when she spent the night, Lucifer was always awake before her, waiting to greet her with a smile and a single-malt latte. But here, now…

Chloe reaches over, lean fingers carefully tracing the scars on his back. 

God is a dick. 

God is a disgusting, manipulative, heartless, abusive piece of dick. 

The more Chloe thinks about it, the angrier she gets. 

She has always known that there is more to her partner than meets the eye. He doesn’t lie to her, sure, but nothing stops Lucifer from withholding information. But once she understands, everything he’s every said to her concerning his Father just falls into place. 

In the cop world, it is called a hostage situation. 

One could say that the Light Bringer was taken, thrown into a dungeon known as Hell, and made to spend millennia doing a job that was forced upon him. In this dark, ashy place, the Devil was made. In order to escape the ever-present grasp of his Father, Lucifer eventually cut off his wings, self-mutilated to escape like a fox in a trap. 

Some say that the Big Guy upstairs only gives you what you can handle, and in overcoming the trial do you become stronger. However, Chloe finds the whole thing sadistic, not to mention completely asinine. And as a homicide detective, she can attest to the fact that being killed won’t actually make anyone stronger. Actually, it makes people dead. Being killed makes people dead. 

What Lucifer had to live through was nothing short of torture, psychological and otherwise. Which is why, tracing the rugged patch of skin where his angelic wings were torn, Chloe finds a sudden surge of affection for her partner. 

The fact that he can even smile is a miracle. 

And the whole God-fearing world that believes the Devil to be the vilest of creatures can go fuck itself. The Lucifer she knows is the purest, most loving being in all of universe. 

“Mmm…detective….” Lucifer mumbles, prompting Chloe to pull her fingers back immediately, thinking she’s been caught. However, her partner merely stirs, and within a few seconds, sinks back into the cloud of a bed. Chloe exhales. Once Lucifer settles, Chloe reaches out again, this time only to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. Lucifer curls into the pillow, tucking his hands beneath it. 

Strange. Chloe would have thought Lucifer to be the kind to sleep on his back, possibly arms behind his head – your typical Type A extrovert. Instead, he’s a stomach sleeper, curled up in almost a fetal position, two wing-shaped scars carved into the otherwise smooth skin of his back. Chloe could almost see it – “Father” proverbially snipping off a symbol of freedom, and down goes the angel. Splat. How could it be, that everything she thought she knew about the world is so wrong? 

Everything she thought she knew about Lucifer, too? 

Before she can control herself, her fingers find their way back to the scars again. 

“You know detective, if you wanted to touch me, you didn’t have to wait ‘til I’m asleep.” 

Gasping, Chloe retrieves her hand to find a pair of big, brown eyes staring back at her in the shadows of the night. “I-I’m sorry Lucifer, I just-” He shoots her a look, one with kind eyes that tells her she doesn’t have to apologize. Chloe recomposes herself with a clearing of the throat. “How are your wings?” 

“Sore, but they’ll be alright in time.” The Devil smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes – just a tilt of his lips followed by a throaty noise. 

Chloe props herself up by an elbow, whispering a hushed “Can I see them?” For a brief moment, Lucifer is reminded of the exasperating offspring. 

“They’re really nothing to crow about, darling,” he hesitates, and there’s that look in his eyes again. 

“I don’t ‘crow’, I just want to see how they’ve healed. Maybe they’re infected, I don’t know.” Chloe shoots back, affronted. 

This time, it’s Lucifer’s turn to look offended. “They’re _angel wings_ detective, they don’t get _infected_.” 

“Show me anyway.” 

Sighing deeply, Lucifer plants himself face-first back into the pillow. He flexes a muscle on his shoulder, and the alabaster limbs fold out, thick and wide, one of them draping over the detective as the other hangs off the bed. Chloe catches it in her hands, like a child pulling up her blanket, and she rakes over the silken feathers, examining every rib, every bump, every layer. 

Chloe has seen them once – the fake wings – mounted on the stage of a dirty underground auction, but even back then, they were the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. But _these_ , the true, genuine wings of an angel – they’re _sublime_. The bullet wounds have stopped bleeding, and she could see the tender pinkness of new flesh starting to come back in. 

_\---earlier---_

_Lucifer is on his knees, the hard joints of his bones rubbing themselves raw on the penthouse’s marbled floor. Dirtied sleeves have since been rolled up to his elbows and his forearms rest heavily on the coffee table, bearing his weight. It’s the only way for Chloe to tend to his wide span of wings. The crimson splatters have since darkened to a brownish black as the blood oxidizes._

_And it’s a weird sight to see the King of Hell so vulnerable. Sacrificial in a way that he just isn’t allowed to be, dammit._

_Chloe had fussed over him on the car ride back, a hand on the wheel and the other up and down the Devil’s face, neck, arms, and torso. On any other occasion, Lucifer would’ve made a crass comment in regards to the detective’s insistent attention; however, this time, he opted for silence and a solemn gaze out the window._

_The detective feels her heart squeeze._

_They’re not okay. Not really._

_Only a few hours ago, Chloe had been living a normal life – dangerous, certainly, but normal nonetheless. Now, not only has she gained a little… divine insight, but she’s also learned that she had been, quite literally, consorting with the Devil. To say that the lady had been a little shaken would’ve been a gross understatement. Lucifer had been expecting this – could see it in her eyes – and yet, what he hadn’t expected was that the detective was too good to give up on him._

_Lucifer, on the other hand, was now burdened with the implications of the return of his Devil face. Amenadiel was right: the Devil had sinned, and now he must pay the price of his soul. Even if he had been protecting the detective, even if he told himself that he didn’t regret killing Cain, the guilt was gnawing at him from within. How could such a man dare to even glance at the direction of the good Chloe Decker, let alone believe himself deserving of her?_

_The storm in his eyes brews and Lucifer barely feels his detective’s prodding fingers._

_Chloe dabs the warm towel to yet another bullet wound, simultaneously removing the dried blood and ridding the painful tear of bullets. Crimson slugs fall to the ground with a loud ‘clang!’_

_The detective’s long, thin fingers are sure and practiced. She’s done this for herself more than enough times to know the drill. But still, performing these ministrations on Lucifer is all kinds of wrong. She wants – needs – Lucifer to stand tall, sure, chest puffed out like a proud peacock. Seeing the mighty Lucifer at her mercy… something inside Chloe cracks wide open._

_Another slug falls to the ground, followed by a trail of fresh, oozing blood. The detective drops her hands in exasperation._

_“Lucifer,” Chloe whispers, and urgent undercurrent in her voice, “we need to get help.” When the dark-haired man continues to stare dazedly before him, silent like Lucifer never is, the detective circles around his wings, cupping a cold, wet hand to his stubbly cheek. “Lucifer!”_

_He shakes out of his reverie. “I’m sorry love, to whom do you suggest we pay a visit exactly?” His wings flutter for emphasis._

_“I-I don’t know! Maybe a vet? An SPCA maybe?”_

_“You will not be taking me to a veterinarian, detective.” Lucifer frowns in offense, rolling a shoulder to retract his celestial limbs. However, the sudden movement proves to be too much, as low growl rips painfully from the Devil’s throat._

_“Lucifer!” Chloe rushes forward, landing awkwardly on her knees. Shaky hands press hotly to the Devil’s bare shoulders, and Lucifer shudders at the contact. “Let’s call Linda, she’s a doctor, right?”_

_“Please detective,” Lucifer reaches up to wrap his long fingers around her wrists, pulling them away from his body. “Our good doctor is not “that kind of doctor.””_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a moment, Chloe _preens_ him, for a lack of better words, stroking with the same gentleness she has used many a times to caress his face. Which is why, when the detective puts a sudden hand on his bare shoulders, Lucifer immediately tenses. 

“Lucifer, you’re immortal.” 

The man muffles an alarmed confirmation into the pillow, wing folding back like they were never there in the first place. 

“You told me getting shot was like a flick, remember? In the car, you told me that. But I shot you, and you bled. Yet your survived Jimmy Barnes. So why do you bleed?” The onslaught of questions takes the Devil briefly off guard, but Lucifer recovers quickly enough. 

“Detective, darling, is this how you wish to spend the night in my company? Talking about that sweaty little imp?” He turns to her, a sardonic little grin playing on the edge of his lips. “I must say I’m deeply disappointed.” 

“I thought the Devil always tells the truth.” Chloe’s eyes narrow, snaring him in a stare down. At that, Lucifer pushes himself up by the elbows. The slightest bit of height difference allows him the smallest advantage, at least in his head it does. 

“I’ve never lied to you detective, nor will I ever,” he swears solemnly, eyes dark, as if he owed her the world and more. 

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Chloe presses, eyebrows knitted as she cups his cheek in her hand, making Lucifer lean into much needed tenderness without so much as a second thought. “Nothing you say or do will make me think differently of you, you know that.” 

“I will. Just, not tonight.” His eyes flutter shut, his mind focusing solely on the warmth of the detective’s palm. “Please.” 

How could he possibly tell her, with her so close to him, so warm in his bed? How could he tell her that he is mortal – hurt – because of her proximity? Chloe, good, pure Chloe. She would distance herself, because she is selfless to a nauseating degree. He couldn’t allow that. He wouldn’t. 

But Chloe wants to insist, wants to know everything about the man - the angel – the _Devil_ before her. After so many years sitting in self-perceived metaphors, Chloe wants to know everything about the man who, at some point in their relationship, has become so, _so_ dear to her. And here he is, staring at her with those terrified brown eyes. How could she bear to hurt him? “Alright Lucifer. Tomorrow.” She acquiesces. 

He nods softly. For a long moment, there is hesitance in the Devil’s eyes as he regards the woman before him. Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s confusion, but either way, Lucifer can’t seem to fathom how Chloe Decker is still here before him, dressed in his silken nightgown, auburn hair flowing down her shoulders. All of this while knowing he is the Devil. 

“What?” Chloe starts in a hushed whisper as she watches her partner’s eyes rake over her body. And for the first time, dare she say, there is no sexual desire in his gaze whatsoever. There’s only…

Wonder. 

Lucifer smiles unapologetically at having been caught staring. “Detective, I must say that you are the first woman who is spending the night in my bed who I haven’t, well, bedded.” 

Surprisingly, Chloe laughs at him – a loud, booming kind of laugh that takes even the Devil off guard. He had expected her to roll her eyes, maybe chastise him for a minute, but all Chloe does is laugh and shake her head fondly. “We both know this is more than sex Lucifer. To me you’re…important, you-” she pauses, swallowing. “You really do make me…vulnerable. And I think I make you vulnerable too. I make you…vulnerable.” Something is turning inside Chloe’s mind, Lucifer can almost see the cogs working through her skull. 

“Detective-”

“No wait,” she shushes him, a hand over his mouth as she stares down at the bed. Something in her mind is about to click, she can feel it. “Is that true? I make you vulnerable?” 

“Well darling, I’d do anything for my partner.” Lucifer muffles the non-answer through the detective’s fingers, but Chloe isn’t having it. 

“Lucifer, I make you vulnerable! I make you mortal, how could you not tell me!?” The detective sits up abruptly, the sudden thought of Lucifer dying because of her proving to be too much. 

“ _Because_ detective, you would actively avoid me, and I don’t want you to.” Lucifer sits as well, strained voice raising as he mimics her hunched stance. 

And there he is, the frightening Devil himself, so- so…attached. Chloe melts into his eyes. “Oh, Lucifer,” she murmurs with a tug at her heartstring. He looks completely unsure, terrified, and so unlike the Lucifer Morningstar the world has come to know. But then again, he plays his persona so well that Chloe wonders if anyone really, truly, knows Lucifer. 

“Promise me this won’t affect our partnership, detective.” Lucifer insists, searching for Chloe’s crystal eyes in the dark. “Promise me.” 

“Look Lucifer,” Chloe starts. Even in the veil of night, Lucifer can see her perfect brows furrow in disapproval. But before the Devil can protest, the detective continues, “You should’ve told me. It was stupid not to, you let me put you in danger!” 

“Hang on,” Lucifer pauses, absorbing the information, “does this mean you won’t abandon me?” 

“Abandon you?” The detective whispers incredulously, as if shocked by the pure ridiculousness of such a thought. “Why would I abandon you?” 

“For my safety, of course.” Lucifer answers matter-of-factly, looking at his detective with a puzzled frown, “I was sure once you found out about my mortality, you would leave me to protect me as some sort of ridiculous, noble gesture only you are capable of.” 

“Lucifer,” Chloe breathes, twitching fingers finding their way back to his skin as though he’s an anti-anxiety drug. They calm as they make contact with his jaw. “You’ve always been mortal to me. This whole time, I’ve never thought, believed, you were invincible. I thought you were a reckless idiot, sure, but not immortal.” 

“Yes,” Lucifer narrows his eyes, tilting his head as though he is realizing something for the first time as well. “You’ve always protected me, even earlier today. Stupidly stood in front of me against a pack of armed thugs, why, detective, I never knew you cared!” 

“Oh shush. I didn’t know you’re immortal. But if you knew that being around me would put you in danger, YOU should’ve avoided ME.” Chloe says accusingly, jabbing a finger to his chest. 

“I suppose I should have, shouldn’t I.” Lucifer smiles, a real smile, for the first time tonight, the relief of the detective’s reaction having done wonders for his mood. And it really is better like that, Chloe thinks. Lucifer looks best when he’s like that, isn’t he. Bed head and a real smile – what more does the Devil need? 

“You should have.” 

“You’d be lost without me darling.” 

“I’d survive.” 

“Oh _would_ you now?” 

“Mhm.” Chloe nods, insolence abound. As the banter continues, the detective finds her partner draw closer, now merely inches apart, his breath mingling with hers in a rehearsed dance. Never has the Devil look so…

“Last I checked, you were quite distraught with my absence, although I was barely gone a day!” 

Oh yeah, Chloe remembers Vegas. 

But she also remembers his shirt, this bed, his declaration, the necklace. Commemoration of the one time she penetrated him, yes. 

“Lucifer?” 

“Yes detective?” 

“Shut up.” And with that, Chloe loses the gap between them, sealing his smart mouth shut with a deep kiss. She brings her hand up into his hair now, fingers tugging with a newfound urgency. The beautiful sting at the back of his head urges Lucifer to part his sinful lips with a needy moan, and the detective’s tongue is happy to explore the caverns of his mouth, licking, biting, _teasing_ , being every bit as wicked as the Devil himself. 

When the detective presses her body against his, the Devil loses all coherence, only forcing out a choked syllable of something that sounds suspiciously like _mngh!_ He paws at her with such distress that Chloe nearly pulls away, thinking he wanted the silken robe off of her. And she would have obliged, willingly, happily, but once Lucifer gets his grips on her, all he wanted was to pull her close, long arms locking her in an eternal embrace. 

Oh sweet Lucifer. The detective understands then, that despite her partner’s incessant requests to sleep with her, sex was never quite his goal. Lucifer just wanted to be comforted, accepted for who he is, _loved_ without being made a slave. The sudden illumination stops her urge to grind down against him to consummate her wicked desires. 

Lucifer needs to be protected at all cost, because even the Devil needs a guardian angel. 

“Lucifer, can I-” Chloe whispers breathlessly onto his lips when she pulls away for air, her fingers releasing his dark mess of hair to trail southward, past his neck, past the shoulders. 

“Yes, yes detective, I am yours.” He nods. She can touch any part of him if he gets to keep kissing her. So he does, reclaiming her lips in his own and sucking her in like a drowning man needs air. Chloe moans throatily, cool palms flat on his back, caressing, for the first time, the entirety of the sensitive scar. And Lucifer _keens_. How could something that once caused him so much pain feel so _good_ under her care? Perhaps she’s healing him, putting the pieces back together. No, Lucifer doesn’t need hard sex, or hard drugs, or hard alcohol. He needs someone to be gentle with him – for the first time in his entire bloody existence. 

Chloe maneuvers the pliable Devil until he is back to her, and she kisses, kisses him from his neck to his spine, peppering cool kisses over the heated shapes of severed wings and back again. Lucifer can only shudder beneath her ministrations, no longer having the strength to do much else. 

Once Chloe’s satisfied with kissing all the love into his skin, she pulls her lips off him, finally giving Lucifer a chance to turn around. But Chloe is unprepared for what she sees next. 

And _oh_ … Lucifer is looking back at her, angelic face damp. He is… _crying?_

_“Oh, Lucifer,”_ the detective’s breath hitches, fear immediately flooding her features. She wastes no time in gathering the broken man in her arms, petting his hair with a hand and rubbing his back with another. “What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?” 

“No, nothing’s wrong detective,” the Devil laughs tearily, resting his chin on his partner’s sharp shoulder. “Nothing at all.” 

And what a wondrous sensation, this sudden wave of affection that crashes over Lucifer’s whole body. He had felt it when it was just a seedling, not knowing what kind of creature it would grow into; had he known…well, Lucifer doesn’t know what he would have done differently, if anything at all. After all, his every move led him up to this point right here, Detective Decker in his arms. And it’s terrifying, this loss of control. When did he change from the _Punisher of Hell_ into this-this- … _man?_ When did he become someone that is, at least by Chloe’s standards, _worthy_ of her grace? 

When Chloe pulls away to find his eyes again, Lucifer realizes he’s been quiet for a moment, silently sniffling into her neck like some traumatized child. In a way, he supposes he is. But Chloe isn’t judging. She just looks at him with a smile, the very same that broke him out of his misery when Father took away his friend the priest. For a being who has existed since the dawn of time, he can attest that nothing has ever felt as good as earning the love of Chloe Decker’s heart and soul. 

So when Chloe pulls him down to a more horizontal position, Lucifer goes willingly. Even the detective is surprised to be met with no resistance as she arranges him on the bed. She rests her head on his extended arm, and drapes her own across his torso like a shield against the heavens. And if Big Guy thought the first rebellion was bad, He has another thing coming. 

Tonight it’s not about desires. It’s about reassurances. Tonight, with every brush of Lucifer’s scar, Chloe is etching on a promise, a promise to be there for him, through the highs and lows, the thick and thin, for better or for worse, in sickness...in health…

Tonight, the Child of a Miracle stands on the side of the Devil. And for every wrong that the Heavens have ever committed against Lucifer – Chloe glares up at the sky – there is _Hell_ to pay. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I know Chloe is often depicted as the good, the pure, and Lucifer the undeserving Devil, Deceiver, etc. But as no one is black and white, I decided to do a little take on a Chloe who holds grudges, who is a little more rebellious, who is not as goody-two-shoes. And of course, to contrast that, a soft, pillow-cuddling, fetal-position sleeping, touch-starved baby angel Lucifer. >///<


End file.
